


Just Like You

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Series: Destiel/ Cockles Shorts [5]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Costumes, M/M, POV Jensen, References to Supernatural (TV), Shirtless Misha, Stream of Consciousness, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:37:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3102407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cockles Ficlet: The actors are getting angel wings ... all of them. Jensen is reluctant. In his mind, Dean would never be good enough to become an angel, even with all the Supernatural elements on the show, it just isn't his character. When he hears Misha is going to be wearing a set, however, his mind soon shifts to the many ways he can torture the man. He expects some fluffy, prop wings to be strapped to the guy's back; but when he finally sees him, Jensen realizes he is very, very wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LunaStories](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaStories/gifts).



> Another prompt from the oh-so talented Lunastories! I admit, I misread her suggestion though ... she was saying that only the angel-actors get wings, and I saw it as "all" the actors. So, this fic might have been different if I was paying closer attention. Oh well ... it is what it is!

            Jensen groans, “Wings? _Really?_ Why?”

           Their costume girl just shrugs and continues adjusting the fasteners that will strap onto his back.

           He rolls his eyes and groans again. “You know, I thought the way we’ve always done the wings was pretty cool; just shadows and shit—this is going to be so lame! I mean, look at this crap! It’s just going to come across as cheesy and cheap!” he spits, flicking the feathers on the prop in front of him.

           “ _Hey!_ Lame or not, I spent a lot of time making these!” the girl growls.

           Jensen gives her an awkward smile, “Sorry … they’re cool looking, it’s not _that_. I just think it doesn’t really go with the show thus far. We haven’t had angels with actual wings and even though _these_ wings are really nicely made and all, I mean— _they are_ ; they’re very soft …” he pinches another feather and rubs it between his fingers, nodding grandly for the girl to see. She stares at him, unimpressed. “I—I just think that we shouldn’t deviate from what we have originally employed as canon, you know I just think—”

           “For Christ’s sake! _Stop talking_!” Jared hollers from the other side of the trailer.

           Jensen looks up to see his friend, shaking his head at him.

           “You’ve already insulted her! You don’t need to torture her with your constant yammering, too!”

           Jensen scrunches up his face, glaring at the guy before softening and turning back down to the girl working below him. A vindicated smile is peeking from her lips. He gives up. _What’s the point anyway? The wings are here, it’s obviously happening._

***

            The first wing-scene is with Misha. Jensen already has his strapped on. He has to admit, now with the make-up and everything else done, he looks kind of _bad-ass_. The wings he has are disheveled, all full of holes and with bare spines sticking out at the ends. As awesome as he looks though, he still has doubts that this episode will actually come together. _Everything_ is possible on “Supernatural”, but _Dean becoming an angel_? Yeah … let’s not get carried away _._ He sneaks over to the wardrobe trailer … hoping to catch a glimpse of Misha getting into his costume. The script says his are going to be “heavenly” and “bright”. Jensen can just see it now, the guy coming out with glittery, white fluff balls taped to the back of his overcoat. He inches up to the door, cracking it a little to peek inside. He sees the costume team working; they’re in a frenzy—scurrying about the trailer with sewing needles and feathers flying everywhere. Jensen waits, hoping the crowd will part enough for him to sneak a peek of his goofy co-star. He starts thinking of the endless jokes this will supply him and Jared with; he almost squeals with the anticipation. _Oh, this is going to be good! Mish is going to look like a fucking dumbass! I can’t wait._ He shifts a little, trying to keep his own wings from scratching against the side of the trailer. _His_ script says he is supposed to look like the angel who went through a meat grinder— _much_ more macho than “heavenly” and “bright.” _I can’t wait to see this!_

            There’s a break in the chaos; a couple of the girls get up to grab something from their closets. Jensen pushes himself onto his tip toes, knowing he’s so close to seeing his friend looking like a Hallmark figurine. White wings appear through the mess of people, shining sleek and clear. They aren’t quite as fluffy as he was imagining and not really ridiculous at all. They look like dove wings. The feathers shift as the man strapped to them, rises. He turns around and Jensen is shocked when he doesn’t recognize the face. _It’s an extra_ —it’s not Misha at all.

            “What on earth are you doing?”

            The voice makes him whip around, knocking one of his boney wings against the trailer-door and snapping it from its mount. “ _Fuck!”_ he mutters, feeling behind him to steady the prop he just broke.

            “Oh, nice going, Jen! Do you know how long the girls worked on these things?”

            Jensen looks up, choice words perched on his tongue, but they never get the chance to pass his lips. In front of him, standing shirtless—worn, dress pants riding low on his hips, is Misha. That alone might have been enough to render him speechless; but it is the fountains of black and grey, shooting from his friend’s back that truly make him gawk. Brilliant, iridescent feathers run as smooth as water over arches above his head. They curve and sway nearly eight feet in the air. Misha narrows his eyes as Jensen moves closer—still looking up at the silky wonders in front of him. He lets his gaze fall to his friend’s face, noticing how the edge of each wing gleans with the same blue that’s in the man’s eyes; yet, when he turns, the feathers flash black once more.

            “You should go inside so they can fix that” Misha instructs.

            “Yeah … yeah, in a minute” Jensen whispers, standing just far enough away that he can take it all in. Somehow, Misha looks taller with the wings on—he isn’t dwarfed by them, or overtaken. _He’s enhanced_. His chest looks broader, his legs seem longer. Every muscle in his arm flexes, and for a moment, Jensen wonders if the wings are actually part of him. There doesn’t seem to be a harness or strap anywhere keeping the glorious things on. They look like they are his and he is theirs. It is almost hard to remember what the guy looks like in just a t-shirt and jeans; and now it seems wrong to picture him any other way than _this._ The Canada sky moves quickly, twisting the light and shadows, only playing up the wings’ magnificence. As another string of clouds pass, Jensen glides with them without knowing. Soon, he’s just off to Misha’s side, running his fingers through the softs spindles that frame the man’s body. The closer view shows him the finer details—how each feather is laced with a hint of grey, blue that make it look deep and complicated. They start as curves, running down from the hiding places beneath the rows above, ending in harsh points. Their edges look razor sharp, but inviting—like a sword’s edge you’d love to die upon.

            “Jensen? What are you—”

            “ _How?”_ Jensen asks, finally slipping his eyes seamlessly to his friend’s face.

            “How … _what?”_ Misha turns his head, letting the soft curve of his neck ripple against the hard edge of his jaw. His eyes shine deep and dark as the shadows pass over head. His hair flits lightly in the breeze. He leans in as he waits for Jensen to speak again, and the feathers lean with him, just like they’re meant to.

            “How did they make wings that are exactly like _you?”_


End file.
